


Abandoned Dreams

by Lokidfault



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Depression, Self Harm, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-26
Updated: 2016-01-26
Packaged: 2018-05-16 11:54:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5827630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lokidfault/pseuds/Lokidfault
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Your depression returns and Dean pushes you over the edge. This was a really shitty summary, I'm sorry. TRIGGERING.  As Always, R&R.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Abandoned Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> This is TRIGGERING. Be warned.

Your POV  
It had been a very long few weeks. You were slowly slipping back into your state of chronic depression. You had started walking around in a daze. You were never hungry anymore, and you barely slept. It took all of your self control not to add to the layers of old scars covering your arms and legs. 

After a particularly unsuccessful hunt, you were wandering about the bunker in a haze. Dean, who was stressed from the hunt, took the opportunity to corner you in the library to talk to you about your current state. The conversation quickly deteriorated. 

“You know what, y/n?”, Dean said quietly. “I can’t deal with your shit anymore. You don’t care about anything anymore. You aren’t the same person you used to be.” Dean slowly starts to raise his voice. “You used to care about people. You used to be creative and outgoing. You went out of your way to take care of people. But now…. now you just sit there, in your own little bubble and you don’t give a fuck about anybody else.” Now Dean is screaming. “WELL GUESS WHAT? YOU AREN’T THE CENTER OF THE FUCKING UNIVERSE Y/N!!!!” 

You stare at Dean, not saying a word. You know he is right. You simply don’t care like you used to. But there’s nothing you can do about that. You turn and walk out of the library towards your room. You pass by Sam who looks confused by Dean’s screaming. 

“Are you okay?” He asks. 

You say nothing as you walk by Sam and enter your room, locking the door behind you. You reach under your pillow and grab the bag of razors you keep there. You have decided you were done. You walk into the the bathroom that connects to your room, and lock that door as well. You climb out of your bathroom window. 

 

You know the brothers are going to be looking for you soon, and they would have to break in to your room and your bathroom. You grab your bike from the back of the bunker, and take off driving. You pedal hard and fast, approaching the abandoned house at the end of the street. You ride your bike around the back of the house, and drop it in the old rose bush, and climb in through the kitchen window at the back of the house. 

You drop to the floor as silently as possible, and walk across the dark, creaky floorboards into the center of the living room. You open your bag of razors, and slice your hand. You use the blood to draw the wards against angels and demons that Sam and Dean embedded into your memory. When you finish, you sit cross-legged in the middle of the floor. You know that you have at least a half and hour before the boys find you. You pull out your favorite razor, plucked out of an exacto-knife, and you start carving. 

You start shallow, embracing the sharp, white pain that you love so much. You slowly start to apply more pressure to the cuts, seeing the blood bead up around the edges then start to flow in a crimson river down your arms. You zone out, enjoying the feeling of the blade on your arm. You stop and look at the art you’ve created. 

Crimson is flowing freely out of your arms and the buzz in your brain feels wonderful. But you know it isn’t enough. It isn’t the same as it used to be. You don’t want to live anymore.

You reach into your blade, and pull out a box cutter blade. You place it on your inner left arm, along the vein. You slowly apply pressure until the blood wells up around the blade, and you roughly jerk it down towards your wrist. The blood quickly wells up and over the edge of the cut, over the drying blood and onto the floor. 

You repeat these actions on your right arm. Then you calmly clean your blades and return them to the bag. You lay down on the floor, staring at the ceiling. You can feel your life force draining out of your arms, and for the first time in years, you feel peaceful. 

You hear the Impala quickly pull into the gravel driveway. You reach into the wound on your arm and start on the dirty floor. You hear the car doors slam, and you smile slightly. As the front door slams open, you slip into death’s welcoming arms. 

Winchesters POV 

“Dean, what happened?”, Sam asks. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about”, he muttered. 

“Y/n just stormed off into her room. I heard yelling. Is everything okay?”

“She’s not the same anymore, Sam. She doesn’t care about anything anymore. I can’t deal with it!” Dean said. 

“Dean, she’s has been acting strange, but I don’t think she’s intentionally trying to hurt you. We could try to talk to her?” 

“Fine. “Dean growled. 

The two Winchesters walked over to your bedroom door and knocked. 

“Y/n, are you there?”, Sam asked. 

When he heard no reply, he knocked again. He tried to turn the handle only to find it locked.  
“Its locked.” Sam muttered. 

“Then fucking break it down”, Dean growled. He slammed his shoulder into the door and the old lock gave way. 

Looking about the room, they quickly realized you weren’t there. Their gazes turned to the bathroom door. 

“Y/n?”, Dean asked, trying the door handle. Finding it locked, he kicked the door open. Both boys looked around the empty bathroom. Both sets of eyes quickly located the open window. 

“Fuck”, they said simultaneously. 

The two boys ran to the Impala, and climbed in. 

“She can’t have gone far”’ Dean says, starting the ’67 Chevy. 

“Look. She must have taken the bike. There’s tire tracks in the mud.” Sam said.

Dean took off, following the set of tire tracks. 

The tire tracks led to an old abandoned house down the road from the bunker.  
Pulling the car onto the gravel driveway, the brothers jump out of the car and rush to the front door. Sam kicks down the door and the two men are shocked at the ghastly sight that greets them. Your body, pale and lifeless, with the words “I love you” written in blood by your head. The pool of blood around your body soaks your shirt and jeans. 

Dean turns away from the sight. Try as he might, he could not stop the flow of tears from his eyes. 

Sam slowly walked over towards your body. He picked up your head, placing it in his lap. Tears slowly start falling on your face as the younger Winchester sobs over your lifeless body. Sam picks up your body, and with Deans help, places you in the backseat of the Impala. For the last time, the three of you drive home together.


End file.
